Friday night. They’ve changed all the Christmas decorations around Champs-Elysées, this year. I like what they have done at Rond-Point, but really didn’t appreciate the avenue itself. Too gaudy for my taste
Rond-Point des Champs-Elysées
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The lady in blue
The first thing that caught my eye was the bright blue of her dress. Then I looked up and noticed her white hair. That is when I clicked!
In Venice, walking in the streets means climbing up and down the stairs all the time. The city is composed of a myriad of small islands that are linked together by those little bridges. Some bridges only have five or six steps, but large ones, like the Rialto, have more. So walking from one place to another always implies climbing stairs.
Contrary to what one may think, there are quite a lot of old people living in Venice and you see them hurrying along up and down, up and down.
Once, I asked an old lady for directions, (when I say old, old she was, she told me she was 89) and she said she would walk me wherever I was going. So I immediately protested, in my broken Italian, explaining that I did not want her to get tired because of me, and she told me that walking was life. As I wondered whether all those steps were not too much for her, she said that living in Venice kept you going, as no matter what you did, you had to cross all those bridges. She told me she went shopping every day.
“I never carry heavy stuff, but I go out every day and do everything myself. It keeps me interested and keeps my legs going.”
When I asked what floor she lived on, she said the second floor, and laughed when I asked if she had a lift. Of course she didn’t!
But she went up and down her staircase just as she did on the bridges. Only, she added, a bit slower.
The wind blew
The wind blew and the Luxembourg garden, one of her favourite places in Paris was quite empty. It was the middle of February, quite a cold day. She had taken a large striped umbrella along to get some shelter.
When she got to the hothouse wall, she chose a chair in the corner and wiped it dry. She pushed it against the wall at an angle. It had been raining earlier in the day, and it was still drizzling, but she was used to this sort of situation and would rather go out, whatever the weather, than stay at home.
She dragged another chair to face the one she would be sitting in and wiped it dry as well. Then, she sat down, opened the large golf umbrella, took out her book, a library book, which had a plastic cover, and protected by the umbrella, started reading.
It was pretty cold, but she was wearing a parka, and her thick gloves protected her hands, although they did not make it easy to turn the pages.
The umbrella filled several purposes. It kept her sheltered from wind and rain, but also from the staring gazes of passers-by.
She had quite a few friends, who loved taking walks in the garden and when she was intent on a good book, she did not want to be disturbed. The umbrella was more efficient than a “do not disturb” sign, she was just hidden from everyone’s looks.
She thought, with satisfaction that no one passing by could even know whether she was a he or a she and settled, quite comfortably for her reading break.
She read for a long while and decided to leave because she was starting to feel uncomfortable. Those chairs were not meant to welcome strollers for a long time. She remembered a time when you had to pay a fee for your chairs. Old women, called “chaisières” would pass by, give you a ticket, in exchange for a few centimes.
That was years ago, when she was young, and the game was to avoid the “chaisière” at all cost.
Nowadays, it was probably cheaper to let people have the chairs for free.
For a while, she wondered who had paid the “chaisières”. Jardin du Luxembourg belonged to the Senate, so whoever paid for the upkeep of the Palace and its gardens, also paid for the people who worked there. Come to think of it, she thought, I am probably paying for the upkeep with my taxes.
It was getting chilly, so she got up and decided to walk across the garden, and have a cup of hot chocolate at Café Le Rostand, which would probably be full of people, considering the weather, but where they made a pretty decent hot chocolate.
This is actually part of something I started doing some time ago, on http://750words.com/ I am writing daily, most of the time, just rambling on and on. Sometimes, I just have no idea what to write about, so I go to Virginia de Bold’s great prompt site, First 50 words.
And when I really get stuck, I try to remember a photo I took and write a description of it.
So this is part of this morning’s 750 words. The rest, as the owner of the site puts it, is between me and me.
My daughter and her husband
This was taken on Bénerville beach, just before they got married.
It still feels strange to write “her husband”, but I am one of the mothers-in-law who loves her son-in-law.
There are and will be more photos on flickr
Au Trocadéro, à Paris
Taken this afternoon on September, 11, 2011,
Les Français n’oublieront jamais / The French will never forget
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Happy birthday, Millie Garfield!
Today’s the day.
I’m wishing you all the best for the coming year and many happy returns.
You too can wish Millie a happy birthday by going to her blog and leaving her a message
Lovely morning in Amsterdam
I got here yesterday and have walked miles. This morning started beautifully. I was going to take the tram to the Rijks Museum, but decided to walk instead, which is when I caught those lovely reflections on the canal.
It was a busy day –I visited a cemetery, and Rembrandt’s House. So I must say that I am pooped, but a good night’s sleep and I’ll be ready for more tomorrow.
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The good, the bad…
I am still on the learning curve with my brand new camera, a Panasonic Lumix FZ-100 and am quite happy with the results.
My last visit was at the Louvre, where lighting often makes it difficult to take good shots. I don’t usually take pictures of paintings, because of the difficulty of getting good or faithful results.
I was in the XVI century Italian painting section
and noticed those cute angels playing on the floor on the right lower hand corner of a painting.
As I said in a previous post, I love angels, but who can resist a good old dragon being slain?
Poor little sparrow
Do you think someone ruffled his feathers?
Taken yesterday at Versailles with my brand new camera.
I love angels
This one I took last year during a trip to Berlin with friend Monceau
We took a one-day visit to Potsdam and went around Sans-Souci Schloss, which has enough baroque and rococo stuff to feast any photographer’s eye
